The Muggle Disease
by rosemarried
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has been behaving strangely... For the Ten Day Competition by AlwaysPadfoot. Trigger warning for potentially triggering statements about autistic and schizophrenic spectrum disorders.


**AN: The Malfoy's in this story are (obviously) not in any way portraying the correct was to parent a child suffering from an autistic or schizophrenic spectrum disorder. Further more, nothing they say should be taken as a statement of fact on any autistic or schizophrenic spectrum disorder and does not reflect my personal views. I wrote this in an attempt to portray how they might have reacted to this. **

**For more (dependable) information on Multiple Complex Personality Disorder, try mcdd. webs or wiki/Multiple_complex_developmental_disorder. (Please note that the wikipedia page has unclear sources.)**

**I wrote this for the Ten Day Competition by AlwaysPadfoot on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

It all started when Scorpius was just a toddler.

He had been doing fine, according to Astoria, hitting his "developmental milestones" all on time. Draco wouldn't know anything about that; his wife was the one who read all those early childhood books. Besides, he didn't put any stock in those nonsense books. He'd looked into that woman Astoria put so much stock in, and he found less than desirable people in her bloodline. What would a Mudblood know about pure wizard babies? Obviously they were going to grow up differently. If they didn't, what would the difference be between his son and a Muggle?

Things started to change though, when he was about 2 years old. Suddenly he didn't talk, he didn't respond to his name, he went back to primarily crawling instead of walking, although he would take the occasional couple of steps still. He'd grown temperamental and refused to be separated from his mother. They just couldn't understand it; what had happened to their mild, well-behaved, normal little boy?

Astoria insisted on taking him to St. Mungo's, saying that maybe he'd gotten in the way of a wonky spell and they could fix it. Now, that was just absurd. The boy was never with any babysitters, always looked after by himself, his wife, or their house-elf, Maggin. He'd interrogated the elf under Veritaserum, just to be sure, and he swore on his life he'd never hit the child with any of his strange elf magic. So how could anything like that have happened to him?

But she persisted, and finally he gave in. They took Scorpius to Mungo's to be seen by a Healer just after he turned 2 ½. They nervously stood in line at the check-in dek, Draco holding their small son in his arms. He had his face buried in Draco's shoulder, still sleepy from his nap. They were close to the front of the line when he picked his head up and suddenly began to cry and thrash in his arms, trying to force his father to move out of the line and, Draco noticed, away from the elevator where Healers were coming and going.

"Wha- Scorpius, stop that!" Draco scolded him, but the child didn't respond to the scolding. The others in the waiting room who were conscious enough to recognize what was happening stared, some curious and others annoyed. One old man with wild eyes fled the room as Scorpius's screaming became louder and more intense. His small fists flew and he nearly caught his father in the eye. "Scorpius!" Draco yelled to be heard above the screeches. "Scorpius Hyperion, you will stop this immediately!" Astoria attempted to get close and soothe him, but he kicked her in the chest.

A Healer rushed over and began to usher them away, but when Scorpius caught sight of her he screamed again, a fearful noise. He caught Draco in the face several times now with his swinging hands and he managed to hand him off to the young woman, who was apparently much stronger than she looked and able to contain him.

"What happened?!" she managed to call to them over the small boy, who was sobbing harder than ever now.

"We think it could have been a bad spell!" Astoria called back. The Healer nodded and brought him to an empty elevator, where they ascended to the fourth floor of the hospital. The Healer deposited the Malfoy's in a small, blue room with a single bed and told them that she was going to fetch "a more experienced professional.".

The minute she was out of sight, Scorpius began to calm down. Soon he sat calmly in his father's lap, swinging his feet gently and staring blankly at the other wall as though nothing had ever happened.

When the Healer returned with a man who's badge proclaimed him to be a Head Healer, the outburst started up again with the same intensity. The woman, who was obviously relieved when she saw Scorpius calm, looked startled as the sudden fit, but the man only nodded thoughtfully. He ushered her out of the room, but the tantrum persisted. He opened the door and wavedher in again.

"I wonder…" he said after a moment, and whispered something in his co-worker's ear. They pulled out their wands and changed their uniforms' color to a bright orange. Upon seeing this, the boy settled down and seemed calm enough again. The Head Healer nodded again.

"Inappropriate phobia of the color green." he said to the woman, who took a blank clipboard off the wall and scribbled something down. He turned to the Malfoy's and held a hand out, shaking Draco's and then Astoria's before introducing himself. "My name is Andrew Midgen. Can you tell me, has your son showed this fear to the color green before?"

"No, this is the first time." Astoria answered, her voice laced with other worries.

"What about other strange fears?" he asked.

"Well… he doesn't like cleaning spells. He runs into another room whenever I do them."

"Any other oddities in his behavior lately?"

Astoria nodded vigorously. "He's stopped walking most of the time, won't speak, won't respond to his name… and he's very easy to upset lately. He was such a mild-tempered baby, too…" her voice trailed off, then came back slightly shaky. "Do you know what's wrong with him? Can you fix him?"

Andrew shook his head. "I don't know, but it's not spell damage. I've seen things like this before, where the child won't do things they're supposed to on time. The Muggles call it 'autism'. The only thing that I haven't seen is the fear…" his voice trailed off.

Draco tensed. "Are you suggesting my son has a Muggle disease? Impossible. He doesn't socialize with them."

Andrew stiffened at that and Draco could tell he had offended him. Probably came from Muggle stock, then. Draco suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted this man treating his son. "If you can't help us, who can?"

Andrew kept his face carefully passive. "I'd suggest Dr. Knolls." Andrew scribbled something down on a piece of paper and handed it to Astoria. "He'll be able to help." He quickly excused himself and left the room. The Healer shot a look of apology for her manager's rudeness over her shoulder as she followed him out.

"Doctor..?" Draco let the odd word roll of his tongue. "Aren't those… Those Muggle healers that cut people up and sew them together like clothing?" He was nearly shaking with rage now. "How dare he?!" he whispered. He was quiet for a moment before he suddenly lashed out and kicked over the stool, making Scorpius clap his hands over his ears and quiver his bottom lip.

Astoria looked between the address on the paper and her husband. Hesitantly, she spoke. "What if… he can fix him though?"

Draco turned slowly. "What," he whispered, his voice dangerous, "did you say?"

"We don't have to approve of him." She said, voice firmer She straightened up. "We won't let him touch Scorpius. We'll make him tell us what's wrong, and then we'll fix him with magic."

"If the Healers don't know, how do you expect a stupid Muggle to?" Astoria snorted.

"They never said they didn't know, Draco, or didn't you notice?" Draco only looked at her. She shook her head as she bounced her son on her knee. "Figures you didn't. They aren't helping us, but they could figure it out if they really tried. He's a mixed blood; it was obvious from how he reacted to your asking if he had a Muggle disease." Draco had noticed this too, and nodded. "He's prejudiced against us." She shook her head again. "How could he not let that go and help a poor child?"

Draco nodded. They sat in silence in the waiting room, watching their little boy quietly kick his feet and stare out at nothing. "So what do we do?" he asked quietly.

"We ask the Muggle. If he wants to cut him open, we say no. Even the Muggle's must realize the parent's right to decide for their child." she reiterated.

"I don't want to trust my child's health to a Muggle. How can we even know we can trust what he says?"

Astoria looked at him scornfully. "Surely you're smart enough to realize when a Mudblood is lying to you?" Draco flushed and said nothing more.

Though he was reluctant about is, he allowed Astoria to bring Draco to see Dr. Knoll the following week. He spent the week talking himself out of the decision when there was peace, but every tantrum over cleaning or colors or something equally insignificant would reaffirm their desperate need for answers. When the day of the appointment came, he sent Astoria and Scorpius off on their own, not being able to bring himself to come. Almost immediately, he regretted the decision. Astoria had a very lenient mindset where the Muggles were concerned; what if she consented to something dangerous?

He paced the house for hours, agonizing over his son's peculiar situation and exactly how everything could go horribly wrong until they finally returned. He rushed to meet them at the door. His wife looked tired and worn out, and Scorpius had tear-tracks running down his face. Immediately, he reached for Draco and she passed him over. He held his son close as the boy sniffed into his shoulder.

"What happened?" his words came out sharper than he had intended. She didn't seem to notice, though, and simply shook her head as she brushed past him and collapsed onto a large, overstuffed chair in the sitting room. She tucked the loose hairs escaping from the tight bun on top of her head behind her ears.

"He said the same thing that Healer did." she said. "Autism." she took out a piece of paper and squinted at it. "PDD-NOS, specifically. Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified."

"How did he catch it?"

"He didn't. They say they don't know how children get it, but they don't catch it. It's a problem with the way his brain works, apparently."

"Alright, but how do we fix it?" Astoria shook her head.

"They can't fix it. They can make it a little better, with extensive therapy and other special help in their school, but I can't imagine that much time in a non-magic environment would be good for him."

"It could delay his magical development." Draco said, and she nodded.

Suddenly Astoria nodded toward his chest. He looked down to see that Scorpius had fallen asleep in his arms. "He missed his afternoon nap to go to this appointment." She explained, standing up and reaching out for him.

"No, I'll put him down." He said softly, being more careful now so as not to wake him. Astoria hesitated; it wasn't like Draco to offer to do 'domestic activities'. "Really, I can do it." he assured her.

"Alright." she relented, biting her lip. "Make sure he's covered up to the chin with his blanket. And that his stuffed monkey is glowing. And that the door is half-way open with the hall light on." He nodded as he moved away, and she called a few more directions to his retreating figure.

Draco ascended the stairs carefully, not wanting to jostle the boy too much and wake him. He would already be grumpy about his schedule being interrupted; no doubt he gave his mother and this Dr. Knoll quite a lot of grief when 1:00 rolled around and he wasn't in bed. He couldn't help but chuckle at that, though he knew he shouldn't. He could be insufferable when he didn't get his way.

He placed him carefully on the bed and removed his shoes, then arranged everything according to Astoria's specific instructions. He knew how important this was. Not a single resident of this house had escaped hearing the nightmare that occurred if things didn't go just right for Scorpius's nap. When he finished this, he sat in the rocking chair for a while and watched his little boy's chest rise and fall gently, the worry lines still etched into his forehead, and wondered what he had ever done to deserve such a punishment as not being able to help his child when he needed him the most.

* * *

Things were alright after that. For a couple years.

But then they began to notice other things.

Scorpius was five years old, and his previous problem's were slowly getting better. Soon after his appointment with Dr. Knoll, who had given them therapy referrals (which they never used) and recommendations on how to help him, along with some very helpful books and pamphlets, he began to walk again and slowly regained the use of language, although it wasn't always any language anyone understood. He still was intensely afraid of green and cleaning spells, forcing Draco to take down his Slytherin decor, which he had fondly left around his house even now. He still didn't respond well to his name, and he didn't make eye contact and no longer would tolerate physical contact, but the Malfoy's were hopeful that would go away now that he had shown signs of magic for almost a full year.

Despite his "quirks", as his family called them, he seemed to be on the mend. When he started seeing things that weren't there, they began to get worried again.

"Mother." Scorpius looked up suddenly from the book Astoria was reading him. "Mother. Zay."

"Scorpius," she chided gently. "I can't understand you unless you speak English."

"Zay." He insisted, and pointed at the corner. "Zay!" He inched a little away from it. "No!" he commanded the corner. Astoria looked between her son and the corner with confusion.

"What is it, Scorpius?" She reached out to him, but he jumped off the couch and ran into the opposite corner, staring with apprehension at whatever "Zay" was. He began to shake and shook his head, whispering, "Zay," and "No," to himself.

"Maggin!" she called, and the house-elf immediately materialized with a sharp crack. Scorpius jumped; he hated loud noises, and had grown to hate Maggin because of the noise he made when he Apparated or Disapparated. "Maggin, where is my husband?"

"Upstairs in his office, madam."

"Fetch him at once. Tell him… Scorpius is having a fit." He bowed low and Disapparated with a crack, which sent her son into full blown tears. She knelt down beside him, unsure how to comfort him now.

"Scorpius, darling, tell me how to help you." But he could only shake his head and repeat, "No, no, zay, no,", pushing himself further back into the corner, as though he was trying to hide from something. She turned and squinted at the offending corner. "Finite Incantatem!" She said, pointing her wand at it. Nothing. "Aparecium!" No writing appeared on the wall either, but she immediately kicked herself for this. If there was writing on the wall in invisible ink, Scorpius wouldn't have seen it and nothing would have scared him.

Draco came into the room suddenly. "Really, Astoria." he said with a huff when he saw her kneeling beside the huddled, rocking figure of his son. "You can't summon me away everytime he does something."

She shook her head vigorously. "It was different this time. He was scared of something, something he thought he saw-"

Just then she was cut off by a piercing shriek, and a second later the corner of the room blew away. Dust and debris went everywhere, and Draco and Astoria were thrown backwards into the wall. The loud sound caused more panic from Scorpius, who had apparently not realized this effect of demolishing part of the house, and once they had stopped seeing two of everything it took them a considerable amount of time to calm him once more.

It was several similar events and just as many costly house repairs later that they learned what a zay was; a ghost. Specifically, an evil ghost who had come to hurt him, or to take him away. They were "the bad color", which his parents deduced to be green, and they yelled and knocked things over and tried to reach out to hurt him.

"But he can't be seeing ghosts!" Draco yelled, frustrated after another such event. He paced and ran a hair through his white-blonde hair, which was starting to ever so slightly recede from his forehead. "If it were a ghost, we would have seen them too!" He picked up a piece of the second story floor that had fallen through a new hole in their dining room. Scorpius had "seen" another ghost during their evening meal, the remains of which lie on the table, covered in dust and plaster.

"So he's seeing things that aren't there?" Astoria asked, voice quivering and hands wringing. Draco shook his head.

"He must be." He paced a moment more. "Is this another one of his… his quirks?"

"It was never in any of the books I read."

"Nor I. But it must be, Astoria! What else could it be?" She nodded. Draco thought a moment more. Yes, the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It was just one of Scorpius's quirks, something that they could easily fix and discourage him from. Just because it wasn't specifically mentioned in one of Astoria's books didn't mean anything. His son was magical, and those books were for Muggles; obviously there was going to be some leeway when it came to symptoms. This must just be a magical autistic trait.

"So… what are we going to do?" she asked after a minute of silence between them.

"We're not bringing him back to that quack, if that's what you're asking." He said firmly. "We'll discourage these hallucinations, and eventually they'll stop. Just explain to them they aren't real. He'll grow out of it."

Astoria didn't look convinced. "What if he doesn't? How do you know that'll work?"

"He will." he assured her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine." A solitary tear fell down her cheek and he wiped it away with his thumb.

"In our families… it's not unheard of… f-for people to j-just go mad." she looked up at him fearfully. "That's not going to happen to our baby… will it?"

"No." Draco said, his voice gentle yet firm. "I won't let him." He held her close and she cried tears of fear for her child into his shoulder while he tried to keep her from noticing that he was crying, too.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, things began to take a dramatic turn for the worse.

Draco was sitting in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace, reading the Daily Prophet when Scorpius entered the room and sat in the chair next to him.

"Hello there, son." Draco smiled at him and put the paper down. "Come to join me?"

Scorpius nodded. "Ja durga pa granka ne zay." he told him, holding up a book titled _Ghost Stories_. "I'm reading a book about ghosts." he continued, remembering his English. Draco nodded approvingly, both of the book and his speaking English without needing prompting. He often now understood enough of Scorpius's language to piece together what he was saying, but of course he never let on.

Draco had given his son the _Ghost Stories _book, a book which presented the tales as fake and not to be taken seriously. He hoped that it would show him that there was nothing to fear from ghosts because they were not real. Scorpius seemed to have taken a liking to it.

They read in silence together for nearly half an hour before a loud, resounding crash came from the kitchen, what sounded like a large glass dish shattering. Scorpius jumped and stared at the door. Draco watched him carefully, afraid of another attack. Finally, though, he turned around and put his book down and hopped down from the chair.

"Where are you going, son?" he asked as Scorpius went to leave the room.

"The kitchen. Mother says if you make something break, you need to apologize." Draco furrowed his brow.

"You didn't break that. It was Maggin." he assured his son. Scorpius shook his head.

"It was because of me though." he told him. "Ja trit, ja trit." My bad? No, my fault, Draco realized. He started walking towards the doorway again.

"How was it your fault?" Draco asked. Scorpius kept on walking. "Scorpius? Son? Come back here!" He rounded the corner and walked off towards the kitchen, all the while murmuring to himself "Ja trit, ja trit." Draco stared after him in confusion before shaking his head and making a mental note to explain to him that not everything that happened was because of his magic.

It became clear, however, that confusion over how magic worked wasn't the problem. Over dinner the next night, Draco rattled on about work, and the new trend of Azkaban prisoners attempting escape. Scorpius paused in his eating and looked up at his father.

"They're coming for me." he told him, his small, high voice laced with fear.

"Of course they aren't, don't be foolish." Draco said dismissively. "They're trying to escape because they're mad, or they're afraid of going mad in there. Happens all the time, prisoners going mad. I remember-"

"They're going to come get me. Ja trit." At this, Draco remembered suddenly Scorpius's insistence that he had caused Maggin to drop the bowl. He looked sternly at his son.

"Boy, look at me." He didn't, but Draco pushed on anyway. Scorpius rarely looked people in the face. "Those prisoners have nothing to do with you."

"They do." Scorpius insisted. "Ja trit, ja trit, ja trit."

"Scorpius?" Astoria reached for him instinctively before remembering his aversion to physical contact and put her hand in her lap. "Scorpius, why would they be coming for you."

"Ja trit." he told her.

"English."

"My fault."

"What's your fault?" she asked, but Scorpius shook his head and pushed his chair away from the table. He bolted out of the room. They heard his footsteps stop down the hall and then begin back. He poked his head into the room and, addressing his empty chair, said, "Excuse me," before turning and running again. Draco shook his head as he heard his footsteps patter upstairs and his bedroom door slam shut.

Astoria looked at him questioningly. "Have you seen this before?"

"Last night. I didn't think it was important." Draco chewed his lip as he looked between the empty chair, the doorway, and his wife. "He thought it was his fault that Maggin broke that bowl. I thought he just didn't understand magic, but…"

"It's more than that." she finished for him. "You don't think…" her voice trailed off, and then she shook her head. "Never mind. It's a stupid idea."

"What is it?"

"Well… maybe that doctor got it wrong. Maybe it's not Pervasive Development… whatever. Maybe it's something that just looks like it at first until it gets into later stages." Her bottom lip quivered dangerously.

Draco snorted. "Leave it to the Muggles to get it wrong." He pushed some salad around on his plate, but didn't eat any of it.

"So should we take him back? Tell him he got it wrong and that he needs to tell us what it really is?" Draco considered it for a moment.

"They'll probably just get it wrong again. Besides, maybe this is just a phase. All kids do it, thinking that everything revolves around them. Maybe these autistics just do it differently. Don't those books of yours say they do a lot of things different?" Astoria nodded slowly.

"Perhaps that's it." She nodded to herself after a 'moment. "Yes, I'm sure that's it. He'll grow out of it."

Scorpius did not grow out of it. The more Draco thought about it, the more he remembered times before that Scorpius had claimed things were his fault, saying "Ja trit," after nearly anything bad had happened. He just hadn't known what that meant then. The time when a hurricane had struck last year, his fifth birthday when his Aunt Daphne had been ill and unable to attend his birthday party, a few months ago when his grandfather had broken his ankle after tripping of the stairs outside of his mansion.

More troubling qualities began to make themselves known as well. Although Draco had always fostered a healthy amount of family and magical pride, Scorpius was showing just how important he thought himself to be. He often fostered grand delusions of godliness and omnipotence, losing himself in them. He once pushed a young Muggle in the street, the first physical contact Draco could remember him initiating in forever, and told him to submit to him. When the boy, who was a great deal bigger and at least 2 years older, asked him why, he told him it was because he wasn't magic. Draco had hastily stepped in and led Scorpius away and explained the Statue of Secrecy to him, but he only laughed and insisted he was too good to get in trouble.

When it happened a second time, this time with a small girl of only 3, the Malfoy's grew more concerned than ever about their young son. At his 6th birthday, he told all the children that he was their god and instructed them in the proper way of treating him. Once word of this got around, they knew something had to be done. He couldn't be allowed to go on like this.

"We'll take him back to that doctor," Draco told his wife, "and get this settled once and for all."

* * *

Dr. Knoll settled into his chair across from the Malfoy family, who fidgeted more than their young boy. Scorpius didn't fidget at all, in fact, but just stared at the wall blankly. He flipped through his file.

"So," he started, "you came to see me in 2008, when Scorpius was two, and got a diagnosis of PDD-NOS. That right?"

"Yes." Draco said stiffly.

"And you no longer believe that diagnosis to be correct?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"We've recently noticed that Scorpius's symptoms don't all match up with what we've read." Draco explained. "He thinks everything is his fault, for one. Even if it happened on the other side of the country, he would say it's his fault."

"He seems to think he's… I don't know, that he's better than his peers. He's told them he was their leader, or was it their god…" Astoria added.

"I heard him tell a Mu- just some kid on the street that he was better than him too. And that he had to submit." Dr. Knoll furrowed his brow and made a note on a blank paper in Scorpius's file.

"Anything else?"

"He's been waking up in the middle of the night lately." Astoria chimed in. "And when I take him to play with other children, he starts fights over small things. He'll hit and and punch when he's upset still, too." Draco looked at her, surprised. He hadn't known this.

Dr. Knoll frowned. "And the symptoms you told me about 3 ½ years ago still apply?" They both nodded. He thought for a moment. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, I think you're right. Your son doesn't have PDD-NOS. The symptoms you're describing aren't even autistic." He got up and retreated to the end of the room, where he reached into the drawer of a large, oak desk and pulled out a small stack of papers and separated them into two piles. He came back over and sat down in the chair. He spent a couple minutes flipping through, reading through one and then shaking his head and tossing it onto the coffee table, face down. Finally he pulled out a sheet and slid it across the table so that they could see it.

"This explains the diagnostic criteria for Multiple Complex Developmental Disorder. A very rare disorder, which is why I didn't even think of it at first." he told them. "If you just clear a few things up, we can see whether or not this is a match for your son."

They spent the next hour or so matching Scorpius's quirks with the symptoms listed on the sheets, answering questions, and trying to get Scorpius to do this or that. By the end, the Malfoy's were more than a little tired and frustrated with their son. Dr. Knoll gave them a referral to a specialist in rare autistic disorders, and a week later the met with a Dr. Wilson, who confirmed Knoll's suspicions.

"He has MCDD." she said. Draco and Astoria looked at their son, trying to gauge his reaction, but he didn't even seem to have heard. "There are things we can do, medications and therapy, but understand that this is a very rare disorder and we know little about how to effectively help people who suffer from it…" But they were barely even listening anymore. Astoria pressed her lips together tightly to keep from crying and Draco placed a hand on her shoulder.

That night, Draco put him to bed himself. He told him a story, pulled the covers up to his chin, gave him his favorite stuffed monkey and touched it with his wand, making it glow. He left the hall door halfway open and the light on, and sat in the rocking chair until he fell asleep.

And then he cried.


End file.
